It was arranged by Captain Pestchouroff and General Lovell N. Rosseau, Commissioner for the United States, that the United States should lead in firing the first salute, but that there should be alternate guns from the American and Russian batteries--thus giving the flag of each nation a double national salute.

The ceremony was begun by the lowering of the Russian flag--which caused the princess to burst into pa.s.sionate weeping, while all the Russians gazed upon their colors with the deepest sorrow and regret marked upon their faces.

As the battery of the _Ossipee_ led off in the salute and the deep peals crashed upon Mount Verstovi and reverberated across the bay, an accident occurred which has ever been considered an omen of misfortune.

The Russian flag became entangled about the ropes, owing to a high wind, and refused to be lowered.

The staff was a native pine, about ninety feet in height. Russian soldiers, who were sailors as well, at once set out to climb the pole.

It was so far to the flag, however, that their strength failed ere they reached it.

A "boatswain's chair" was hastily rigged of rope, and another Russian soldier was hoisted to the flag. On reaching it, he untangled it and then made the mistake of dropping it to the ground, not understanding Captain Pestchouroff's energetic commands to the contrary.

It fell upon the bayonets of the Russian soldiers--which was considered an ill omen for Russia.

The United States flag was then slowly hoisted by George Lovell Rosseau, and the salutes were fired as before, the Russian water battery leading this time.

The hoisting of the flag was so timed that at the exact instant of its reaching its place, the report of the last big gun of the _Ossipee_ roared out its final salute.

Upon the completion of the salutes, Captain Pestchouroff approached the commissioner and said:--

"General Rosseau, by authority of his Majesty, the Emperor of Russia, I transfer to the United States the Territory of Alaska."

The transfer was simply accepted, and the ceremony was at an end.

No one understanding the American spirit can seriously condemn the Americans present for the three cheers which burst spontaneously forth; yet there are occasions upon which an exhibition of good taste, repression, and consideration for the people of other nationalities present is more admirable and commendable than a spread-eagle burst of patriotism.

The last trouble caused by the Sitkan Indians was in 1878. The sealing schooner _San Diego_ carried among its crew seven men of the Kake-sat-tee clan. The schooner was wrecked and six of the Kake-sat-tees were drowned. Chief Kath-le-an demanded of Colonel M. D. Ball, collector of customs and, at that time, the only representative of the government in Sitka, one thousand blankets for the life of each man drowned.

Colonel Ball, appreciating the gravity of the situation, and desiring time to prepare for the attack which he knew would be made upon the town, promised to write to the company in San Francisco and to the government in Washington.

After a long delay a reply to his letter arrived from the company, which refused, as he had expected, to allow the claim, and stated that no wages, even, were due the men who were drowned.

The government--which at that time had a vague idea that Alaska was a great iceberg floating between America and Siberia--paid no attention to the plea for a.s.sistance.

When Chief Kath-le-an learned that payment in blankets would not be made, he demanded the lives of six white men. This, also, being refused, he withdrew to prepare for battle.

Then hasty preparations were made in the settlement to meet the hourly expected attack. All the firearms were made ready for action, and a guard kept watch day and night. The Russian women and children were quartered in the home of Father Nicolai Metropolsky; the Americans in the custom-house.

The Indians held their war feast many miles from Sitka. On their way to attack the village they pa.s.sed the White Sulphur Hot Springs, on the eastern sh.o.r.e of Baranoff Island, and murdered the man in charge.

They then demanded the lives of five white men, and when their demand was again refused, they marched stealthily upon the settlement.

However, Sitka possessed a warm and faithful friend in the person of Anna-Hoots, Chief of the Kak-wan-tans. He and his men met the hostile party and, while attempting to turn them aside from their murderous purpose, a general fight among the two clans was precipitated.

Before the Kake-sat-tees could again advance, a mail-boat arrived, and the war pa.s.sion simmered.

When the boat sailed, a pet.i.tion was sent to the British authorities at Esquimault, asking, for humanity's sake, that a.s.sistance be sent to Sitka.

Kath-le-an had retreated for reenforcement; and on the eve of his return to make a second attack, H.M.S. _Osprey_ arrived in the harbor.

The appeal to another nation for aid, and the bitter newspaper criticism of its own indifference, had at last aroused the United States government to a realization of its responsibilities. The revenue cutter _Wolcott_ dropped anchor in the Sitka Harbor a few days after the _Osprey_; and from that time on Sitka was not left without protection.

Along the curving road to Indian River stands the soft gray Episcopal Church, St. Peter's-by-the-Sea. Built of rough gray stone and shingles, it is an immediate pleasure and rest to the eye.

"Its doors stand open to the sea, The wind goes thro' at will, And bears the scent of brine and blue To the far emerald hill."

Any stranger may enter alone, and pa.s.sing into any pew, may kneel in silent communion with the G.o.d who has created few things on this earth more beautiful than Sitka.

No admission is asked. The church is free to the prince and the pauper, the sinner and the saint; to those of every creed, and to those of no creed at all.

The church has no rector, but is presided over by P. T. Rowe, the Bishop of All Alaska and the Beloved of All Men; him who carries over land and sea, over ice and everlasting snow, over far tundra wastes and down the lone and mighty Yukon in his solitary canoe or bidarka, by dog team and on foot, to white people and dark, and to whomsoever needs--the simple, sweet, and blessed message of Love.

It was in 1895 that Reverend P. T. Rowe, Rector of St. James' Church, Sault Sainte Marie, was confirmed as Bishop of Alaska. He went at once to that far and unknown land; and of him and his work there no words are ever heard save those of love and praise. He is bishop, rector, and travelling missionary; he is doctor, apothecary, and nurse; he is the hope and the comfort of the dying and the pall-bearer of the dead. He travels many hundreds of miles every year, by lone and perilous ways, over the ice and snow, with only an Indian guide and a team of huskies, to carry the word of G.o.d into dark places. He is equally at ease in the barabara and in the palace-like homes of the rich when he visits the large cities of the world.

Bishop Rowe is an exceptionally handsome man, of courtly bearing and polished manners. The moment he enters a church his personality impresses itself upon the people a.s.sembled to hear him speak.

On a gray August Sunday in Nome--three thousand miles from Sitka--I was surprised to see so many people on their way to midday service, Alaska not being famed for its church-going qualities.

"Oh, it is the Bishop," said the hotel clerk, smiling. "Bishop Rowe," he added, apparently as an after-thought. "Everybody goes to church when he comes to town."

I had never seen Bishop Rowe, and I had planned to spend the day alone on the beach, for the surf was rolling high and its musical thunder filled the town. Its lonely, melancholy spell was upon me, and its call was loud and insistent; and my heart told me to go.

But I had heard so much of Bishop Rowe and his self-devoted work in Alaska that I finally turned my back upon temptation and joined the narrow stream of humanity wending its way to the little church.

When Bishop Rowe came bending his dark head through the low door leading from the vestry, clad in his rich scarlet and purple and gold-embroidered robes, I thought I had never seen so handsome a man.

But his appearance was forgotten the moment he began to speak. He talked to us; but he did not preach. And we, gathered there from so many distant lands--each with his own hopes and sins and pa.s.sions, his own desires and selfishness--grew closer together and leaned upon the words that were spoken there to us. They were so simple, and so earnest, and so sweet; they were so seriously and so kindly uttered.

And the text--it went with us, out into the sea-sweet, surf-beaten streets of Nome; and this was it, "Love me; and tell me so." Like the ill.u.s.trious Veniaminoff, Bishop Rowe, of a different church and creed, and working in a later, more commercial age, has yet won his hold upon northern hearts by the sane and simple way of Love. The text of his sermon that gray day in the surf-beaten, tundra-sweet city of Nome is the text that he is patiently and cheerfully working out in his n.o.ble life-work.

Mr. Duncan, at Metlakahtla, has given his life to the Indians who have gathered about him; but Bishop Rowe, of All Alaska, has given his life to dark men and white, wherever they might be. Year after year he has gone out by perilous ways to find them, and to scatter among them his words of love--as softly and as gently as the Indians used to scatter the white down from the b.r.e.a.s.t.s of sea-birds, as a message of peace to all men.

The White Sulphur Hot Springs, now frequently called the Sitka Hot Springs, are situated on Hot Springs Bay on the eastern sh.o.r.e of Baranoff Island, almost directly east of Sitka.

The bay is sheltered by many small green islands, with lofty mountains rising behind the sloping sh.o.r.es. It is an ideally beautiful and desirable place to visit, even aside from the curative qualities of the clear waters which bubble from pools and crevices among the rocks. These springs have been famous since their discovery by Lisiansky in 1805. Sir George Simpson visited them in 1842; and with every year that has pa.s.sed their praises have been more enthusiastically sung by the fortunate ones who have voyaged to that dazzlingly green and jewelled region.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Copyright by E. A. Hegg, Juneau

SUMMIT OF CHILKOOT Pa.s.s, 1898]

The main spring has a temperature of one hundred and fifty-three degrees Fahrenheit, its waters cooking eggs in eight minutes. From this spring the baths are fed, their waters, flowing down to the sea, being soon reduced in temperature to one hundred and thirty degrees.

Filmy vapors float over the vicinity of the springs and rise in funnel-shaped columns which may be seen at a considerable distance, and which impart an atmosphere of mystery and unreality to the place.

Vegetation is of unusual luxuriance, even for this land of tropical growth; and in recent years experiments with melons and vegetables which usually mature in tropic climes only, have been entirely successful in this steamy and balmy region.

There are four springs, in whose waters the Indians, from the time of their discovery, have sought to wash away the ills to which flesh is heir. They came hundreds of miles and lay for hours at a time in the healing baths with only their heads visible. The bay was neutral ground where all might come, but where none might make settlement or establish claims.